Black and Yellow
by plutospawn
Summary: She'll kill you too, idiot. You, me and father, one big, happy fracking corpse pile.


**Author's Note: **Did this for a Dueling Circle challenge on kfm. It came in third. A bit dark, very minimalist and goes on the assumption that Mission's now a consenting adult. Enjoy.

**Black and Yellow**

"Hey."

"I'm sleeping."

"Nuh uh."

"Well, I'm trying to."

"Did I wear you out?"

"No. It was the sandwich I ate afterwards. Go to sleep."

"Not tired. You can't just make me go to sleep because you said so."

"I could make you... Frack! Your hands are cold, Mish!"

"But you're so warm! What were you saying, Sunshine? Trying to be the intimidating ex-wannabe Sith threatening me? I'm real scared. Honest. Aw, don't turn on the light."

Everything was tinted too yellow. Too early. Two pairs of pinched eyes tried to glare at each other.

"Happy now?" Dustil asked.

Mission slumped down into her pillow. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"And what did that have to do with those–" He jabbed a finger at her hands. "Keep those icy claws of death away from me."

"Sheesh." She wrapped her arms around her, stuffed her hands between her armpits. "You're cranky."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Beats me."

"It didn't have anything to do with a certain blue girl pawing my stomach with freezing hands?"

"So now it's my fault?"

Dustil rolled over so his back faced her. "No, I'm sure you'll figure out why it's my fault. Give me six more hours and I'll let you blame me for anything you want."

"Dustil?"

No answer.

"Dustil?"

He turned the light off.

"Do you like me?"

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm serious, bantha breath." She flicked the light back on.

He groaned. "What do you need me to say to get you to shut up and go to sleep?"

"Now you're being stupid," Mission said. "If I wanted something to repeat everything I wanted to hear, I'd buy a housedroid and watch soaps. You give me the truth now, Onasi."

"Don't call me that. Ever."

"Oh?" She shoved him onto his back. "What are you going to do about it?"

He caught her wrist in his hand. "Don't piss me off."

Mission smirked. "Don't think I've ever seen you pissed off. Really pissed off. Do you flash?"

"Go away."

"Answer my question."

"I don't flash." Dustil's face darkened. "Flash is for showoffs. There are better ways to get the job done. You know that."

"I'm flash."

"Yeah?" He chuckled. "I wouldn't put up with you if you were flash."

She took her hand back. "I'm flash. I think you like flash, just too afraid to do it yourself."

Dustil sat upright, pulled her towards him roughly, close enough to feel her breath on his chin. "You have no idea what you're talking about, obnoxious."

Her eyes darted over him, taking in the planes of his face. "You're really scared now. Didn't think things through, huh?"

"I don't need your crap right now."

"You are scared," Mission murmured. Brushed her nose against his cheek. "We'll work it out, huh? I'm not going anywhere."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"I have to."

"Forget it." He pushed her away.

"Hey!" She grabbed his arm and yanked him back on the bed. Pinned his shoulders down with her knees. "That's banthashi– pal and you know it. I can make you talk. Talk to me, damn it."

Dustil licked his cracked lips. "I'm fracking dead."

"No, no that's not true." She shook her head. "I made sure. You're safe."

"Stupid, I fracking killed him." He laughed.

"I pulled the trigger."

He edged himself up on his elbows, upsetting her balance. "Yeah? And why was that, blue girl?"

Mission crawled off of him. "So you wouldn't."

"Mmm..." Dustil leaned forward, pressed his lips against her shoulder. "But I would've."

"But you didn't."

"Do you think that matters to Darth fracking Revan?" he asked.

"Don't call her that. She's not Darth Revan anymore," Mission said.

Dustil raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter if she had the Jedi rhetoric spewing out her ass when she gutted Malak," he whispered. "When Carth Onasi's blaster fried corpse turns up, don't you think she'll be just a little bit unhappy?"

"But it's my fault, right?" Mission insisted. "She can't go after you. She wouldn't."

"Yeah, that sounds believable," he snorted. "You or me, who's the more likely perpetrator?"

"But that's not the truth."

"It's not if no one believes it."

She blinked. "Let me talk to her- we go way back, I could make her understand, make her see and, and–

"And what?" Dustil snapped. "She'll kill you too, idiot. You and me and _father_, one big, happy fracking corpse pile."

"You don't know her like I do," Mission said. "She wouldn't, if I could just talk to her... This is bad, huh?"

"You should have just let me kill him."

"But I like your eyes black," she said. "I didn't want them to turn yellow."

"Your eyes are still blue."

"You're running away, aren't you?"

He smirked. "Don't sound surprised. It makes you look stupid."

"I'm coming too. You need me, I've got to come, there's no way you can stop me, gizka turd–"

He kissed her. Brushed her lekku aside, dragged his hand from her cheek to the back of her head. Her eyes shot open when she felt the needle stab into her neck.

"Not fair," she muttered as the trank made her eyes glaze over.

Dustil kissed her forehead, kissed the tip of her nose. "That should keep you out long enough for me to get away, long enough for Revan to find you, not me."

"Jerk," she slurred. "Fracking frack."

"Yeah." He shot her a mirthless smile. "I like you, blue girl. She won't kill you. Don't give her a reason to."

Dustil waited patiently for the drug to take effect, for Mission to crumple into a ball before he slipped off the bed and got dressed. He turned the light off as he left.


End file.
